Awkward Adjectives
by mirrorsound
Summary: All-nighters plus plagiarized lunches is the perfect recipe for skewed adjectives.


**Well, this is probably the worst thing I've written so far. Have a dorky oneshot. I'm not really sure where this came from.**

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Len pulled another all-nighter. The dark circles suspended beneath his eyes were enough indication of that. I figured he had been studying for the math test—it was always his worst subject.

He sat stiff on the bench beside me, his lethargic gaze shifting around, absorbing the world in exhausted apathy. It was a beautiful summer day, with sunshine filtering through the treetops and floral aromas wafting the air, so I had suggested we eat outside. I had hoped a little sunshine would revive his lifeless attitude, but he seemed immune to any sort of wake-up calls.

I was a little disappointed, to say the least. Miku and Luka were absent for a field trip, so I foolishly assumed spending some alone time with Len would, um, strengthen our relationship a bit.

…Len was nice. I might have had some feelings for him.

"So, uh," he mumbled, running a hand through his messy blond bangs. "How's your day been?"

"Pretty good," I answered through mouthfuls of bento. I know, I know, talking with a full mouth probably wasn't a very dignified step in impressing my crush. What's a girl to do?

He eyed my bento with slight interest. "Have any for me?"

I let out an internal sigh of relief—I didn't have the courage to ask him if he'd like some—and reached in my knapsack, producing a small box of bento. It was becoming a regular occurrence, and for some ungodly reason he dedicated a portion of lunch to my culinary.

Well, it was actually my mother's cooking, but Len didn't need to know that.

I pushed the container into his hands, trying not to react when his fingertips brushed against mine. Today they were cold and clammy. "You look tired. Didn't get a lot of sleep, huh?"

He attempted a weak smile. "No. Math is a killer."

So my assumption was correct. Turning away, I swallowed back my apprehension and forced the words from my throat. "I could help, if you want, I'm not too bad at math. Would you like to make a study da—er, session, sometime?"

He didn't respond. I felt my self-esteem physically deflate with each passing second, before I finally turned to face rejection.

He was asleep on the bench. Literally snoring. With those cartoonish ZZZ's and everything. I sighed, knowing I didn't have the guts to repeat the offer, and pinched his cheek. Hard.

Len bolted awake, grasping at his swelling cheek. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Stay awake, sleepyhead, you're in public."

"Oh," he straightened awkwardly in the bench. "Right." He turned his attention back at the bento in his lap and shoveled mouthfuls of rice while I sat there, sifting through my brain for something to talk about. I drew a blank.

Should I go for it? Maybe I should blatantly ask. It was what Miku recommended, anyway.

"S-so, what do you think of me, anyway?" I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"Delicious."

"What?" I stared at him. It certainly wasn't the adjective I anticipated. "Wait, what did you say?"

Len turned his slightly-rejuvenated eyes away from the bento. "Delicious."

"So… you think I'm… delicious."

He lurched forward in a coughing fit, choking on his lunch. My cooking wasn't that bad, was it? …Well, my mom's cooking, I mean?

I patted his back in attempt to help dislodge whatever he had wedged in his throat—trying not to feel too pleased by the physical contact because, one, it was just his back, and two, my crush couldn't breathe.

Once he regained his normal respiratory cycle, he waved his hands frantically. "The food! I meant the food! That was what you asked about, wasn't it?"

Oh. That would make more sense. "No."

"U-uh, oh, well, what did you ask then?" His face was flushed. I wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment, or the previous oxygen-deprivation.

"Never mind," I dismissed, disappointing myself. _Every time_ I actually find the courage to ask him…

Apparently he had enough information to infer what my question had been, because he stumbled across his proceeding words. "W-well, I think you're delicious—uh, I-I mean, not delicious, your bento is delicious, but you're _nice_—u-unless you're insulted and would prefer to be called delicious, if you like that, in which case it'd be kind of weird, a compliment for taste, n-not that I wonder what you taste like, but, but—" he halted, gulping while his face burned even brighter. "You-you're also sweet—u-um, wait, that describes food too, doesn't it? I-I mean, not that that's a problem, but with the delicious mix-up—er, I mean, what's the word? I think you're fruity, um, wait, no, what does that even mean—uh, the word is… is… cute! Yeah, I think you're cute—not that it means anything, but you asked, so I think you're cute."

I stared. Wide-eyed. I couldn't help it.

He was more nervous than _I_ was. How was that even _possible_?

He fidgeted awkwardly beside me. "Ah, sorry, I think I'm just tired—"

"I think you're cute too," I mumbled, eyes cast on my shoelaces. "I mean, since you said…"

He didn't speak. I didn't speak. For the rest of the lunch period we sat on that bench, only the sound of rustling wind hanging between us. When the bell chimed, signaling the end of lunch, I wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"Well, see you around," I murmured and slung my book bag over my shoulders, avoiding his gaze as I turned away.

"Wait!" he slipped his hand into my palm and tugged me back.

"Len, what are you—" My words slipped away when Len pressed his lips against my cheek, sending my thoughts spiraling into an incoherent overload. He pulled away almost instantly, leaving the kiss as only a peck, and I felt my cheeks flush. What was this, a preschool romance?

Len stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "U-um, Rin, I-I…"

He broke eye contact from the grass and met my flustered gaze, instantly shying away and flashing a sheepish grin.

"…I-I'm not doing this right, am I?"


End file.
